Boundaries
by Fyrest
Summary: Scarlett Psyphal is a twenty-three-year-old YouTuber by the pen name ScarScreams. She lives in Georgia. She is quick-rising in her Let's Playing career, though she's only been around for two years. She has many friends with whom she does co-ops. But when Felix calls her over Skype, strange things start to happen, including some unexpected arrivals. Rated T for possible cursing.
1. Chapter One - Stay With Me

_**Chapter One - A Place To Stay**_

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_**A/N: Hey, guys! So I've finally managed to finish chapter one, yeah? I've been working on this for, like, two MONTHS. It makes me really happy now that I've finished it, too. But, I have to admit, I still have a ton to work on, with chapters two, three, and four. I had up to chapter nine done, but then my computer decided to crash on me and deleted my saved chapters (sweat drop)…. **_

_**Anyway, I'd like to apologize for the wait. Some of you might not have come here because of the older version being taken down, but for those that did, I thank you. I know some of you were a little upset when I first announced that I was dropping it, so I feel proud that I've finally brought it back.**_

_**Originally, the plot was supposed to be centered on PewDiePie and Cry's relationship, but I ended up bringing in Scarlett to spice the story up. It's like a love triangle, but it ends nicely. **_

_**Unfortunately, I have no CLUE what is actually going to happen during the story. I want a lot of chapters, but I have very few ideas. I know how some things go, but feel free to PM me if you have any ideas. I'm open for suggestions.**_

_**I think that's all. Except the disclaimer, I guess I just want to say I hope you enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own PewDiePie (Felix Kjellberg) or Cry (ChaoticMonkey) or Ken (CinnamonToastKen). This story is completely fictitious and is not intended to be seen as true in any form or fashion None of the events have occurred (as far as my knowledge goes, anyway…) and are not meant for more than the purpose of entertainment. All parts are generated by my twisted, fan-girl mind and are mere fiction meant to entertain. This is not intended to insinuate that they are gay, nor is it meant to offend or insult them or anyone else.**_

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_**Scarlett's P.O.V**_

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The beeping of my alarm pierced the fog of unconsciousness that had enveloped me, and I groaned in annoyance. Swinging my arm out, I expertly switched off the blasted device, opening my eyes slowly. Dim light filtered through the blinds of my window, which just so happened to be open. The curtains swayed in the breeze – oh, make that the _freezing cold_ breeze – that pervaded my bedroom. I was thoroughly cocooned in a large gray afghan, as well as a deep green quilt. I was warm, with the exception of my head, neck, and shoulders, and I really _did not_ want to get up. Just as the thought formed, another shot of cold wind flew through the open window, and I shivered so violently that my teeth clacked together. Sighing, I gather my courage. Despite my being dog-tired, I quickly threw the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and had the window shut and locked in record time.

"Screw you, window," I said, less than proud after the comment. For one reason or another, I slept every night with that window open. I suppose it's an unconscious thing, but it's never made any sense whatsoever. I've tried going to sleep without it open, but it takes me hours after lying down to accomplish it, so I ended up giving up. Now, I just open it before I lay down. Of course, the downside now is that it is about fifty or so degrees outside and very windy for a fall season. It was a much better notion, leaving the blasted window open, when it was summer and spring.

Now that the room was beginning to warm back up to its usual sixty-seven, I looked around my room with the dim light of the five o'clock-in-the-morning sun. The walls of my room were painted a neutral cream color, namely for my lack of wanting to paint a room that no one was very likely to see. There was a desk pushed up against the wall, in the corner, directly under the window. My bed was against the adjacent wall, in the middle, a large queen, though only I have ever slept in it. On the wall opposing the window was a small closet, in the corner, and a dresser that took up the rest of the length of space. A bathroom was opposite my bed, to the left of the exit to the hall. Clothes scattered on the floor. My bed was a mess, and I didn't even know where the comforter was. Overall, it was a pretty decent master bedroom.

I quickly strode over to my closet, picking out my running outfit for weather such as this: long black sweat pants and a long-sleeved, green work-out shirt I'd bought from Dick's Sporting Goods. I withdrew a sports bra from my dresser, with a pair of thin socks, pulling it all on in a few minutes. After I'd finished that, I retreated into the bathroom. Viewing myself in the mirror, I smiled. My dark hair was unruly, and I looked visibly tired, even to me. My green eyes were hazy with remaining sleep, and even my smile looked drowsy. Picking up my brush, I began to sort out the mess on my head, pulling it back into a tight, high ponytail. The effect was dramatically different: my eyes seemed bigger, not so fatigued, and my olive-toned skin looked healthier. I brushed my teeth, rinsed with some mouthwash, and flossed quickly. I left the bathroom ten minutes after walking in, feeling better than I had in a week.

The rest of my house was just as plain as the bedroom. A kitchen, with granite counters and white cabinets. A stove. A microwave above it. A refrigerator/freezer and a pantry. There was a counter with stools, and behind it was the actual dining room table, which was more like a table for two that you would see in a restaurant, with a rolling chair positioned at it. A door behind the chair led out to the backyard. The front room was more elaborate, though not necessarily fancy by any means of definition. There was a seventy-inch television mounted on the wall, a glass and black metal coffee table, a black leather sectional. A separate hallway, opposite the one you take to the master bedroom, led to two guest bedrooms and a small bathroom. One bedroom was furnished, the other I used as a studio.

I made a stop at the pantry, taking out a small energy bar and scarfing it down. Runs were great in the colder seasons, especially in the morning, before the day could warm up into the comfortable area of the season. Before I could find something else to get distracted by, I hurried out the door, locking it behind me.

The Georgia state that surrounded me was fairly cold, hovering near forty-eight degrees, normal for a November morning. The wind blew confidently, whipping my ponytail back and forth with it as I stretched in my front yard. I lived on a nice piece of land, not that big, really. My neighbors were all within seeing-distance, maybe two hundred feet between each house. My front yard was prosperous with a few bushed in front, black wood chips surrounding them. A sidewalk went from the front porch, a nice wrap-around, to the driveway, which was packed tight with freshly lain gravel. There was a large tree, a maple, I liked to think, which was circled by bricks, with a small flower garden beneath. My brother used to garden for me, when I was just moved in, but I take care of it now, since he moved to the UK for some adventure. Not that I blamed him, but I wished I could've joined him.

The neighborhood I lived in was fairly well-kept, with yards not too similar and not too different from mine. There were gardens and trees. There were some with wrap-around porches, and some with smaller ones. The people were friendly enough, anyway. Some of them knew me well - most, actually. A lot of my family and friends lived here. Though I wished for a chance to experience the rest of the world, I was having a hard time leaving all the familiarity behind. With a sigh, I jumped a few times and then began my run.

I returned to the house a half-hour later, out of breath, warm from the work-out. I opened the door quickly, nearly collapsing on the couch after I'd shut it back again. My face was hot and my muscles were relaxed. My heart hammered in my chest violently, beating hard against my ribs. Running was a thrill for me, like roller coasters, though without the height and immense speed factor. And the terrified screams of joy from others.

It seemed as if just after I sat down, a beep issued from the kitchen, causing me to groan. I stayed where I was, hoping it was just a message of some sort. But no, it went off again. I knew what it was: a Skype call. I usually didn't like to get calls in the morning, but I'd already done my running, and I didn't have much planned - it was Friday, my day off, and I was single. You can see how I'd be free.

Slightly encouraged by the though of someone wanting to speak to me, I stood up, stretching, relishing the warmth of my body, and made my way to the dining room table, where my computer sat, a dialog box asking if I wanted to connect to the call. I sat down in the rolling chair facing the machine and clicked to accept. A man's fatigued face filled the screen, surprising me. His sandy blond hair was strewn about messily on his head, adding to my thought that he hadn't had much sleep. His cerulean blue eyes shone, though, with a liveliness that I hadn't seen him harbor in a while. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his smile replicated the one I'd had earlier this morning. This man, whom I'd once perceived as a guy that was totally datable, was Felix Sjellberg, aka PewDiePie.

My first thought was that he was calling me from his house, but then I was able to make out the shape behind him: an airplane seat. Great. He was traveling.

Uh-oh. Warning bell.

"Hey, Scarlett," he said tiredly. I smiled wryly at him; I knew he was having a hard time, and I should try to help him, but it was bordering on overboard.

"Hey, Felix," I said. "So, want to tell me why, exactly, you're traveling again? When you're already low on money?" He flinched as if I'd struck him, and guilt crept up on me. "I'm sorry," I apologized sincerely. "But seriously, you need to think about things before you go and do them." He looked sorry he had even called.

"I know," he said slowly. "I just was hoping to get away for a little while." I nodded.

"I know, man," I said. "I know. But if you really wanted to go somewhere, you should have let me know. I would've helped you pay for stuff." He looked happier that I wasn't going to chastise him more for his decision.

"i knew that, too," he said. "I just didn't want to bother you." Which was probably true. He is very conscious of people's well-being, that Felix. I probably ought to explain first, though.

A few months ago, Felix and Marzia, his girlfriend, got into a fight. I was there. It wasn't good, to say the least. I won't go into detail now, but you'll get the full story later. In any case, they'd broken up and Marzia kicked Felix out. He found an apartment a few weeks later, but that didn't mean he was any better. He'd been depressed and secluded. He'd even stopped making videos for a month until Cry, Ken, and I all flew over to his apartment and got him to do a co-op. Luckily, that sort of woke him up, and he's gotten better since. He'd been to small events, like game-cons, and he's visited us.

But now a silence filled in for a moment, and I quickly spoke.

"So, what was it you wanted?" I said. "You don't often call me this early in the morning." I shifted a little in my seat, the leather sticking uncomfortably to my thighs. His face went a little red at the question, but I hardly took notice of it; a stitch had appeared in my side, and I was pressing it, desperately trying to dispel the pain.

"Um," he said, "I was kinda hoping to ask you if you knew a place to stay? I'm coming to the U.S. and I didn't really book a hotel or anything..." He trailed off, waiting for a reply.

"Oh," I said. "Cool. So you'll be around. At least there's better internet, huh?" I pressed on the spasming muscle a little harder. "Well, I'm sure Ken or Cry would be up for housing ya." His eyes darted around for a moment.

"Well, actually," he said, "they are a little busy this weekend, they said. I'd called them yesterday, and I waited to call you till this morning." I was surprised; he'd actually converted the time zones? He was very sensitive about angering others, sure, but I didn't know he was that insistent on it.

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Maybe Russ'll..." I trailed off, realizing that I had no clue where Russ even lived. I started back up again. "Maybe Ian or Anthony?" I shrugged. When he looked at me again, though, his face red, I had an epiphany:

He meant me.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, feeling more than a little stupid. "You meant me. You're asking to stay with me." His face went redder, now more noticable, and he nodded. "Hang on, Felix, okay?" I got up and rushed around the house, doing an examination/estimation of how much i needed to clean and how long it'd take and how long I'd likely have. When i sat back down, Felix looked a little worried.

"You don't have to," he said quickly. "I can arrange a hotel-"

"No, it's no problem," I replied. "It'll be fun. We can some co-ops, and I'll get to be at home, and you'll finally get to see my house, like you always wanted to." I smiled. I was genuinely happy with the prospect of him staying here, not a worry in the world. He had always wanted to see my house, which I often described as my dream home, only smaller. Plus, we really hadn't been able to do a lot of co-ops lately, and it was always fun. Not to mention my fans were practically begging for some more Prop Hunt, and I was - in all honesty - hoping for the chance, too. He smiled at me.

"Are you sure I can stay with you?" he asked, slightly skeptical. I laughed. Then, I reassured him, using my best Cry impersonation, which was actually very nearly exact.

"Of course you can stay with me, friend."

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_**A/N: Please don't hate me. This was so much longer than the original. I loved it. Let me know what you think. Next chapter might be around next week.**_


	2. Chapter Two - Hello, Ghosts

**Chapter Two - Hello, Ghosts**

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**A/N: Hey, guys. So chapter two came faster than I though it would. I dunno, but I feel like the weekend has me energized. Valentine's Day was nice, though I only got one box of candy that, in all honesty, I didn't even like. It was a box of those super generic candy hearts that you always got in middle school or elementary school. I always found them gross, and I still do.**

**So anyway, the chapter came pretty smoothly. All I really had to do was remember what the previous one had been like, and just retype it with a whole lot more details. Like the first chapter. That one had been way over the original's word count, so I was very happy. Hopefully, this one will be as successful and entertaining as the last. It's not as lengthy as I wish it was, but still longer than the original. **

**Also, I know the format on this thing isn't great, but there isn't much I can do now. I'll edit it soon, so it's all centered.**

**Since I know not many people enjoy lengthy author's notes, I'll stop here. Enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think, rate, and favorite and all that good stuff.**

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**Felix's P.O.V.**

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After my call with Scarlett, during which we discussed a few details of my stay, I felt immensely better. My last few months without Marzia had been super hectic, and I was fairly satisfied that I had been getting better, even if at a slow and slight pace. My life had taken an unexpected turn when she had shown her jealousy, and when I didn't explain soon enough or reassure her enough, she took it as her answer. She had broken up with me before I even knew what was happening, and I was on the street before I could even ask about it. She wouldn't answer any of my calls, texts, or emails. It's a little pathetic - or so Scarlett keeps telling, though I've no idea what she thinks that will accomplish, other than make me feel bad - but I couldn't help it; I'd loved her.

Anyway, the moment I closed the computer, I began to dread the time that I would spend on the plane. I had about three hours until I made it to the Georgia airport. I had been lucky enough to sneak by on using Skype during the flight only because nearly everyone else had fallen asleep, and the few who weren't didn't even notice. Not to mention I used my headphones and spoke into a microphone in a whisper. When she had asked me about the sound quality, I lifted up the small object and she just nodded and said, "The FAA and FCC ban, right." I was beyond happy that she agreed to let me stay with her; I wouldn't have known what to do if she hadn't. At first, I'd thought she wouldn't let me, her being single and all. She reminded me a lot of Cry, in both her attitude and her mind set. She was laid back and calm, even when she got mad. She figured life itself was an adventure, and she rarely slowed down to see the sights. It was as if her motto was something like, "I bet there's something better around the corner! It'll have to wait."

There was also a point in time when, not but maybe a year and a half ago, I thought Scarlett was very datable. Of course, I was already in the relationship with Marzia, so it wasn't like I could personally confirm it, but I can't say that I'd never thought about it. It was one of those thoughts that was always there, but never had enough substance to pull me to do anything. Just a few days ago, I could hardly really imagine it. Then, during the call, during my request for lodging, it all rushed back - all of the possible scenarios, all of the awkward walk-ins, all of the things that could go wrong. I hadn't thought about any of it until she appeared on-screen. I'd thought she wouldn't let me stay, as I said before, so she surprised me when she was so amiable about the whole thing. But then, there was another way she was like Cry; not many things - such as sexual tension, as it might as well be called - bothered her.

I tried, for about a half-hour, to be occupied by listening to music. I tried to play the PSP that I'd brought along. I even tried to read a mystery novel that I'd gotten at a garage sale a few weeks ago. But to it was all very futile, and I sighed as I fidgeted. Finally, I just gave up, closing my eyes and arranging myself into a more comfortable position. The low hum of the plane and the heat in the space lulled me into a deep, peaceful sleep that I hadn't even known I'd needed.

About two hours later, I was woken by an annoyed-looking flight attendant with large bushy brown hair and a smile so forced, even a partially blind person would've known she wasn't happy.

"Sir," she said, feigning a patient tone, "we will be arriving in ten minutes." Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her red heels and stalked away. I quickly shook off my remaining drowsiness, yawning and stretching as much as my limited space would allow. I pulled out my phone, glancing at the time: nine thirty-two in the morning. I'd slept since seven thirty, which had given me two hours of sleep.

About ten minutes later, I was walking into the airport, my two suitcases in hand, my computer bag slung over my shoulder, and another bag - containing games and other entertainment providers - hanging off of one the suitcase's handle bar. I scanned the crowd around me slowly, hoping to catch sight of Scarlett quickly. My blue jeans and dark green tee were not out of place, but I felt as if I were being watched. Of course, most people that I met could recognize me easily as the YouTuber I am, but I'd had experience of my American fans - some were more into touching than others. It didn't bother me a whole lot, but sometimes, it was too much.

Luckily enough, once I reached the bulk of the crowd of people, I spotted a small bench and sat down, sighing. Immediately, my spirits fell; there were couples everywhere, hugging and kissing, smiling during their reunion. My heart sank as I watched them, reminding me of the days I had spent doing the same thing with Marzia. I pulled my gaze from the nearest pair, and I easily spotted my hostess. She stood to my right, not having spotted me yet, adorning a large sign that read, "That Awesome Guy" in bright blue, a nickname she'd given me after we first met.

You see, Scarlett was a fairly new YouTuber, and she was gaining popularity very quickly. Her Let's Plays were genuine, her How-To's informational and fun, and her opinion debates - in which she spoke with two other people about gossip and debated about it - were often heated and a great joy to view. She also did a vlog, which over half of her fan base watched. She did other things too, like challenges and bets and dares. She is very "in-tune" with her fans, as Scarlett liked to say. She had a Tumblr, a Twitter, a Facebook page, and a MySpace - "Just because everyone uses Facebook and Instagram doesn't mean that I can't have a MySpace," she'd said. She was very adamant about the way she was with her channel, and she was very out-of-the-box with what she did. She liked to refer to herself as a sort of journalist, often doing interview-like things with other YouTubers. Her popularity had been small when she first came out, two years previous, but once she revealed her face and name and such - she wanted to wait until she got her life sorted out before she did that - about three months ago, her fan base nearly tripled. Probably, according to Ken and Cry's theory, it was due to the fact that she was single, twenty-three, and had a very nice pair of boobs that she had the (supposed) unconscious tendency to show off.

Now, in fact, she was doing just that, wearing a tight-fitting shirt that had the Hogwarts coat of arms and stated, in gold lettering, "Hogwarts Alumni", the letters of Hogwarts stretched across her almost too accentuated chest, the others across her flat stomach. Her faded grayish-blue jeans complemented her figure, and she wore a pair of red and gray Nikes. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, as usual. She didn't wear any makeup either, preferring to go all-natural all the time. The only time I'd seen her wear makeup was during a vlog that she made at her brother's friend's wedding, who had actually asked her to do one, as he was a fan of her channel. Her appearance, it seemed, was already gaining some attention from nearby men - both single and not. The sign she held was to the side, as if she wanted everyone to notice her, though I knew it wasn't the case. More than likely, she wanted to show off her new shirt, and the fact that it was Harry Potter merchandise.

When I neared her, she broke into a smile, dropping the sign and rushing toward me, arm out for a dramatic touch. This happened every time we saw each other, it was such a long-lasting joke. She'd done it the first time I saw her for real, and it'd been awkward. Now, it was second nature to drop my bags and hug her close, just as I did now. It also, as I found out, drove away any guys that were interested. I wasn't sure why, but it made me a little smug. I mean, Scarlett is great, really, but every guy I'd seen her with had given me a bad vibe, and I'd never been wrong. I just didn't want her to get hurt.

"Hey, Felix," she said, pulling away. "How are you?"

"Other than jet-lagged as crap?" I asked, getting a laugh in return as she took one of my suitcases. "Pretty good. I could use some food." She nodded at me, starting toward the exit.

"Yeah, I can get that taken care of," she said. A sly grin tugged at her lips. "Just wait, okay?"

We headed across the parking lot, and we made it to her car, a sleek, silver ice Chevy Malibu. She popped the trunk, took my other bags, and slipped them in, closing the trunk quickly and sliding into the driver's seat while I sat in the passenger side. She started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot with a grin that, in all honesty, had a rather mischievous quality.

We drove around for a little bit, Scarlett allowing me a chance to look at all of the food options. McDonald's, Sonic, Dairy Queen, Sugar Rush - a café with what Scarlett said was the best breakfast platter, though I doubted it was necessarily good for you - and a Waffle House that she said we'd have to go back to later, since I needed to get settled into the house soon.

I eventually chose McDonald's, for the lack of wanting to wait for food. We pulled up and she ordered a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit with hash browns, and I ordered, having had experience with Americans' large proportions, a sausage and egg biscuit, no hash brown. We got our food, and when she handed mine over, I immediately wished I had gotten both.

"Why is it that your country's food servings change for breakfast?" I asked. "Lunch and dinner have HUGE servings. And then I get a super small breakfast. I just don't get America." Scarlett laughed at my trouble.

"Oh, Felix," she said. "You just gotta remember: a large portion of Americans are obese. Obese people are lazy, so they don't eat breakfast, which is why those servings are always smaller." I laughed.

"That's a horrible joke," I said. She grimaced.

"I know. Unfortunately, it's pretty much the truth."

We arrived at her house within twenty minutes. Her front yard looked like it did in the pictures, but I still looked around in awe. I'd always wanted a garden, but I knew I wouldn't be good with it's care. The wraparound porch was painted a creamy color, and the exterior of the house was a marble-like white. On the porch was a small glass table and two chairs, a chess board set up. Her black metal mailbox had the name "Psyphal" painted on it in swirling letters in a pretty gold, with her house number beneath it. She popped up the trunk, withdrawing a suitcase and a bag, handing them to me, saying, "I'm not bringing in everything when you still have the legs to stand and stare at my house. Make them limbs useful!" I smiled, taking my designated bags as she grabbed the last of them. We made our way up the steps, and she entered the code to unlock the door, as I shivered slightly in the crisp air. When she opened the door, I was surprised: there were no lights on.

"Um, Scarlett?" I asked.

"Power outage, probably," she replied with a shrug. "It's been happening a lot lately. C'mon, shut the door and we'll head to your room. You've got the distinct honor of inhabiting the completely unused guest room, which, according to my belief, is more than likely haunted. By two men. By the way." I laughed at the comment, shutting the door, enveloping us in darkness. Scarlett pulled out her phone, using it as a flashlight of sorts. I began to walk toward the hallway with three doors, but she grabbed my elbow firmly, stopping me in my tracks.

"No," she said quietly, "I'm serious." Her eyes bored into mine, all seriousness and no sarcasm.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The room. It is haunted. By two men," she added. I blinked. "It's no joke, Felix. They've become really active this last month. I just wanted you to know." She squeezed my arm gently, as if to emphasize the importance of what she was saying. My palms went clammy and my heart seemed to beat slower, and time appeared to freeze. Then, Scarlett let go of me, and the feeling passed.

"Pshh," I said. "Bring it on." We walked down the hall, her shaking her head disapprovingly, me beginning to think that I might actually freak out. Scarlett gave a little cough, echoing in the quiet. Or, at least, it seemed to echo. She pointed to the first door, on the left.

"The bathroom. It's a half bath, sorry. I'm trying to get a shower installed by next month," she added. Then she pointed to the door across from it. "My studio. Sort of. It's where I do a lot of my videos. The green screen is in there, the one I use for my animated stuff. You know, the motion thing." I nodded. "My pride and joy, that room."

Finally, we reached the other guest bedroom. However, before Scarlett could even reach out to touch the doorknob, the door creaked open slowly, causing Scarlett to take a half-step back, before she steeled herself again, taking a deep breath and moving into the room. I followed close behind.

The room was cold, colder than the rest of the house, at least. I shivered slightly, following Scarlett closely. The bed was a twin, with a gray and white comforter and pillow cases and sheets. The carpet softened our steps. She swiped her phone screen, then cursed.

"What?" I said anxiously.

"It's about to-" She was cut off as her phone went dark, leaving the room to turn black. I reached out and brushed her arm with my fingertips.

"Die," she finished sullenly. "Shit." I couldn't see her in the darkness, but I didn't need to; I could feel her, tense and anxious beside me. Then, there was movement, and a sound of the bed springs being pushed down by a weight. I froze, and I heard my heartbeat in my head, felt my pulse in my ears. What else could I do? I only had one idea.

I raised my hand in a motionless wave, as if whoever - or whatever - it was could see me, and said:

"Hello, ghosts. Pleased to meet you."


	3. Chapter Three - Scream for Help

_**Chapter Three – Scream for Help**_

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**A/N: Okay, so I am totally ON A ROLL with this story. I mean, I have brought two chapters in the same week, and chapter three is in the works not but two days later. It's a wonderful thing, I must say. I don't often put up this many chapters this quickly. I know it's been nearly a full month – thirty days! – since I last updated, but I'll try to keep the waiting time between each chapter shorter than thirty days, or a month.**

**Anyway, I'm pretty excited. I had to go back and see the original story to compare, and this version is far better. I know I've said that a lot, but it's the truth.**

**Alright, so moving to the **_**completely**_** needed thanks. I want to thank **_**CIAKat**_** and **_**Don't Forget**_** for their wonderful reviews. I also want to thank everyone else that has read this story, or favorited or followed. I'm very, very excited that you all like it, and the support is very kind and appreciated. Thanks you guys! I'm honored to have you all as my readers.**

**So, I don't think I have anything else super important. Also, if you haven't already checked it out, take a look at my one-shot **_**Tonight**_**, featuring PewDiePie and Cry, and slight shipping of the two (insinuated by their action, of course). **

**So, this chapter. It's actually based off of my own experience with a basement and a cruel joke. My friends and I were staying over, but they faked a power outage and led me down to the circuit breaker. I fell all over the place and screamed when the lights came on, because there was a huge clown statue in front of me when I turned around. Of course, this isn't the exact same, but it's very similar.**

**Also, this chapter is sort of split into two parts. Kind of. Not really. I don't know. It feels like I split it up.**

**Alright, so I'm done. I'm going to go now, and you can go on and read the actual chapter.**

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**Felix's P.O.V.**

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Scarlett laughed beside me, breathily and nearly at my ear.

"Really?" she said. "You're so... Just... Ridiculous." I flashed a smile in the impenetrable darkness, knowing she couldn't see it, but unable to do anything else.

"Not ridiculous," I said sternly. "Completely and utterly fabulous." She chuckled.

"Don't forget awesome," she replied. I laughed.

"Completely awebulous," I said. She cracked up again, but a loud clatter behind us, as if something hit the floor in the hall, turned her quiet again.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered, my heart kicking up in speed and pounding painfully against my rib cage. Adrenaline poured through my veins, my ears straining to hear faint sounds, my eyes struggling to pick out shapes in the darkness and shadows.

"I have no idea," she confessed. "Maybe they made it into the living room?" She shifted closer to me.

"How?" I asked, resting my hand on her forearm, trying to be a little reassuring. She shrugged, an action I only knew from the movement of her arm.

"I haven't a clue," she said. "Let's drop your bags and try to find our way to the circuit breaker." She turned slowly, and we progressed down the lightless hall. You would think that it would be brighter, from widows and through curtains, but there was not a ray of sun to be seen. It was completely black, all around me. The only light that I could make out was from the alarm clock that had been in the bedroom, along with a few other small dots of light from other battery-powered objects.

"Why is it even so dark?" I whispered to Scarlett.

"One reason," she said, "is the dark purple blackout curtains that I bought for every window in the house. That is, except my bedroom, of course." I was quiet, trying desperately to keep from laughing or making a sarcastic comment. I didn't want to make her mad at me for making fun of her and her curtains, considering how stressed she probably was. We slowly snuck along the linoleum floor, the surface creaking a little with our weight pressing down on it. If I remembered correctly, she only had carpet in the bedrooms, and tile in the bathrooms. The thought calmed me a little, something comforting in its random appearance into my mind.

"Watch-" she said, just as my knee collided with something very sharp and very likely to be metal. I cried out as pain burst through my leg, throbbing and stinging unpleasantly, stumbling back but not falling, clutching my leg, my breath shallow. I moaned a little, but the feeling was already beginning to dissipate.

"Out," she finished with a laugh. "That would've been the coffee table." I just groaned in response, the sound that of exasperation. She laughed again, but she took my hand – the one I held against my mouth to keep myself from making any unnecessary noises – and began to lead me forward, her own palm clammy with sweat.

"C'mon," she said. "The basement's down this way, just here." She led me a little to the left, and I could tell we were in another hallway because the walls felt closer, giving me a claustrophobic feeling. "My bedroom's down here, too," Scarlett added. Then, there was the sound of another door creaking open, from in front of us. She turned abruptly, facing me.

"Shit," Scarlett muttered, facing me, her breath skimming across my face as she breathed the words. "They're down there, I think." She took a shaky breath (her hand shook too) and, squeezing my hand tightly and turning back around, began her descent down a set of stairs. My first though was to _not fall down the stairs_. My second _keep calm._ I counted the steps as we went along. _One, two, three, four, five… _Soon, we reached twelve, and I could feel the bottom step through my shoes and with my ears: no more creaking of wood.

The basement had the feel that you would expect of any basement when you're completely blind. My ears strained to hear any sounds besides Scarlett's - and my own - breath. I could feel the static in the air, it seemed, which was almost charged to a point of solidity. I was almost afraid to move, in fear of something noticing me. My heart hammered away in my chest, similar to the beating of a hummingbird's wings. A fear of passing out from sheer terror crossed my mind briefly, but I quickly shooed the thought away – it would do me no good.

By now, Scarlett had dropped my hand, but I could feel her presence beside me as she shuffled forward, and I followed. She maneuvered easily across the floor, making decisive movements, and I stumbled along with much less grace. Luckily, I was quiet. She smothered her laughter as I ambled along, until she gasped.

A very cold breeze flew through the basement, shocking us so much as to freeze us to the floor. I shivered involuntarily, quaking in my shoes, more due to the terror shooting through me than the cold. For several moments, we stayed, seemingly glued to the ground, a cold dread settling around us. I'd never been an enthusiast, per say, as Scarlett considered herself, but I knew that a common sign of a spirit is the atmosphere becoming suddenly cold. My biggest fear was that this thing, this _spirit_, wasn't exactly friendly.

I heard a big intake of breath from Scarlett, and then I heard her shuffling forward again. How she could keep moving, knowing that something else was down here with us, I had no clue. She amazed me occasionally, at the strangest times. It seemed that each time I compared her with one person, she seemed to veer off-course, making it clear she was completely and totally unique.

I would have freaked out, would have run out of the house when the first door had creaked open.

Cry would have been talking to himself, trying to keep calm whilst cursing his luck.

Ken would have been… well, freaking out very quietly.

But then there was Scarlett. She freaked out, managed to calm down, continued forward, and kept completely silent. Scarlett was level-headed and so utterly different from the rest of us. She was a mix of all of our characteristics, plus some of her own. Sometimes it was hard to peg her as someone different, but then there would be a moment like this, when it was painfully obvious that she wasn't just one of us, but that she was so much more. She could have seven different battles going inside her mind, and you would barely even know of one. She had the modesty of Ken, with his refusal to cuss more than a couple of times; the demeanor of Cry, with his calm and cool exterior; the humor of myself, with the ability to make jokes at the tensest of times; and the unique confidence of herself. It was like nothing could stop her, ever.

While I was thinking, she had slid forward enough to have to turn around and call for me. "Felix?" she said hesitantly, her voice quaking a little, scaring me a smidge more than I would have liked. I stumbled forward, until she stopped me with a sigh of relief.

"I'm right here," I said. "Although, you probably know that, considering I pretty much knocked you over." She laughed a little.

"I thought you'd left, or something had gotten you," she said quietly. Then, before I could say anything, she cleared her throat. "Anyway, I found the circuit breaker. I just have to find the key to it. Would you help me?" I sighed, resigned. In the end, even if she hadn't asked me, I would have done it. I wouldn't have volunteered – she would have forced me to do it.

"Sure," I said. "Where at?" She moved me to the right.

"Straight ahead, on the washer."

"Got it." I thrust out my arms as I walked, hoping that she hadn't put me in front of a wall. I was at a great disadvantage if she wanted to play tricks like that; I'd never been here before, so I didn't know the layout at all. I was reassured, however, when I didn't run into something after ten steps. I couldn't hear Scarlett anymore – she was probably doing it so I could concentrate – and my ears were straining to hear something, anything. Finally, after what seemed like ages, my legs were stopped. I felt around them and, after a little thought, I was able to decide that it was the washer or dryer. There wasn't anything on top, so I figured the washer would be next to it. When I stuck my hand out, I touched something warm and soft. Holding back a shriek, I found the key next to what I'd touched, and I quickly withdrew, heading back to Scarlett with failed cautiousness. She managed to grab my arm, and I sighed in relief.

"Thank God," I said. "I got the key." She didn't reply. The key was taken from my hand, but she didn't let me go. "Um, Scarlett?" Suddenly, fear gripped me. Who had me, if it wasn't her?

"Yeah?" she replied, her breath skimming my face. She dropped my arm.

"Oh, never mind," I said, waving a hand dismissively before realizing she couldn't see it. "It was nothing."

"If you say so," she said, though she sounded skeptical. I heard the key go in the lock, and the circuit breaker door opened slowly. "Now, let's see if I can remember." She flipped a switch, but nothing happened. Uh-oh. What if wasn't going to work at all? What if it was broken? What if the power lines had fallen or the entire city's power was out? I doubted the last contemplation

"Um," she said. "Oh! Duh, we need the basement light on." She flipped the same switch back (at least, I think she did. Nothing happened, so I figured that's what she'd done.), but before she could flip another, something skidded across the floor, in the area where the washer and dryer had been. My breath hitched in my throat, my shock and terror rendering me silent. If it had come from over there…

Suddenly, there was another loud noise, this one from the stairs. The door.

Slammed.

Shut.

"Oh, no," I muttered. "Scarlett?"

"Yeah?" It came shakily.

"Hurry and get those lights on, yeah?"

"Oh, right." She opened the breaker again and flipped a switch. Nothing. Another. The same result. She flipped them all at once, and then back to their original positions. "I think it's fried or something," she whispered. I nearly cried. I felt like crying. Or hiding. But something was coming down the stairs. I backed up into Scarlett, not ready for much, but ready nonetheless. Then, the steps stopped. Started. Stopped. Until it was right in front of me, at least, as far as I could tell by my hearing. I closed my eyes, though it didn't make much of a difference in the darkness.

Suddenly, I was pushed out of the way, and I heard a scream.

Scarlett.

"Help, Felix!" she screeched. I heard her dragging weight, the rushed footsteps, go up the stairs. The door opened and slammed shut again before I could really register what had happened.

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**A/N: Yeah, I call this part one, in a sense. Not officially, but still part one. I thought about doing both in one, but I realized that it'd be so long, I'd never be able to write a chapter long enough to match it. Plus, I wanted a little thrill and suspense. Did it work? **

**Hope you enjoyed. Review and favorite and follow! **


	4. Chapter Four - Detour

**Chapter Four – Detour **

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_A/N: Hey, guys! So it only took a few days to finish this. Like, it literally only took three days. I know it took longer to put it up, but I had to finish chapter five first. I'll try to keep one chapter ahead of schedule, with one complete and one in the works at all times. I'm not sure exactly how well it'll work, but I'll definitely try it._

_Next, I want to thank LavendorQueen for reviewing. Thanks for the kind response and I'm glad you like it. In case you guys haven't already noticed, I intend to thank anyone who reviews. I'm hoping more of you will let me know what you think. Feel free to point out mistakes or things I could improve on. _

_I'm kind of dragging this whole scene out. I really wanted something that had a little tension. I'm not great at atmosphere sometimes, but I am trying. Let me know how it worked out, and if you have any tips, let me know._

_I want to apologize a little for the past two chapters all being in Felix's point of view. I intend to mix it up more in the future. The next chapter will not start in Felix's._

_I also want to thank (again) everyone else who has read/favorite/followed/bookmarked (because a friend of mine did that) this story. I really am happy that you all enjoy it._

_Now, go on ahead and read the actual chapter. I hope you'll like it!_

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**Felix's POV**

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I was frozen to the floor, my mouth open slightly in shock. I couldn't see or hear. I could hardly breathe or move or even think. What had just happened? I struggled to gather my thoughts and work through what had just occurred. As far as I could tell, the lights weren't on, and they weren't coming either, no matter how much I wished they would. According to Scarlett, the breaker was fried, or shot, or whatever was wrong with it. In any case, it didn't seem like I was going to be regaining my vision anytime soon. The area around me was silent, and Scarlett's scream echoed in my head, as if reminding me of the current situation, and the fact that it just changed in a drastic way. Who knew what spirits did with hostage humans? What if she was being drained of her life force, or something equally horrifying? As unbelievable as it sounded, the thought scared me a little. I didn't know a lot about ghosts or demonic spirits, or _whatever_ Scarlett had haunting her house, so I felt utterly helpless. It would be my luck to end up in the same position as her because I didn't know what I was doing.

I tried to calm my nerves; my heart was beating a mile a minute, my breath shallow and coming in short gasps. I took a deep breath, shaking out my arms like I did before a video if I was nervous. I tried to put the ghosts out of my mind, and the fact that one of them might be in here with me. Once I felt like I could actually walk without my legs giving out, I started toward the washer and dryer, trying hard to remember the way. When I reached it, I hesitantly began to feel around, afraid I'd touch the soft _thing_ I'd felt earlier. It had felt slightly hairy and wet, which had scared the shit out of me. Luckily, I didn't touch anything of that sort. I probed around the top, sorting through what was on top to try to find a weapon of some kind. Unfortunately, I still couldn't really see. However, there was a little sliver of sunlight shining on the dryer, enough that would help me distinguish an item if I held it underneath.

As I felt around, my hopes began to drain by a large amount. With each item I found – none of them sufficient weapons, of course – the belief of me saving Scarlett dwindled even more. If I couldn't find a weapon, what use was I? Although I wasn't sure a weapon would even be effective against a ghost, it wasn't a thought I intended to linger on. If it didn't work, I'd find out. I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

As I put down the last thing I'd found atop the two machines, however, I noticed something that made me sigh with a little relief: a shelf, above my head, slightly out of reach. Even so, I couldn't contain my smile. I grabbed the hanger that I'd set down. If I ran it over the top of the shelf, maybe I could knock the stuff down and find something useful that way. My only other option was to stand on the dryer or washer, which wasn't something that I was going to do if I had the choice.

I reached up above me with the hanger, swiping it over the flat surface of the shelf slowly, just to see if anything was up there. A faint sound told me there was. Carefully, I slid it off, and it fell to the ground with a thud, along with some other miscellaneous stuff, from the sound of it. When I reached down, I felt the objects. A stack of blankets – quilts and Afghans – and some paper, pocket change and a pair of die was also on the ground. Then, I touched something that was very distinctly metal, and I nearly froze. Of course, finding metal was a blessing, but I wasn't exactly a violent person. I shook my head to clear it; I couldn't afford hesitation. I picked up the item, expecting a curtain rod or something of the sort. I was puzzled immediately by the strange shape of the thing. I held it underneath the light, and gasped in delight and surprise.

"Stephano!" I exclaimed quietly. I couldn't believe it. In my hand was a legitimate, golden metal statue from Amnesia, which I had named Stephano. A smile split across my face. It was a great find, to be honest, something to lift my spirits, is not for any other usefulness. And, technically, I could use it as a weapon; it was certainly heavy enough. The gold of his appearance was like my savior. His name was even painted on the little stand. Briefly, I wondered if Scarlett had made the whole thing, or if she'd simply painted the name on it. It didn't matter though; she had it down here, and that was enough that I found myself glad that Scarlett had this, so very _giddy_ about it that I even spoke for Stephano.

"'Ello's Pewdie," I said in his accent. "Where are we? I thought we were supposed to be at Brennenberg." I laughed at myself – more of a giggle, really – walking slowly toward the door out of the basement, my mood lifted successfully. I was enjoying myself, the fact that I had found something that was able to entertain me in a moment like this.

"Well, Stephano, we're at my friend Scarlett's house," I replied. "And we have to save her from the ghosts that are holding her hostage." I made Stephano laugh. It was great for me, to be able to pretend, even for a moment, that I wasn't trapped in a house with two spirits that may or may not be demonic, and may or may not be trying to kill Scarlett.

"Well, then we shall go," he said. "And it will be a long and dangerous adventure-"

_THUD_. I jumped. My humor fled. My heart sped up and my fear returned, in full force. I took a deep breath, climbing the steps slowly and counting as I went. _One, two, three…_ When I reached the top, I inhaled slowly, holding my breath as I opened the door, closing it behind me as soon as I was out.

It was still pitch black. I was still scared out of my mind. I stepped forward, wincing as the linoleum groaned under my weight a little. I moved forward, my progress slow, Stephano – I guess? – encouraging me to move surely. I still didn't know the layout. I still couldn't see or hear or breathe. I just had to feel my way forward. I cast my eyes around uselessly every few minutes, trying to make something out, _anything_ out. Still, I spotted nothing; no sliver of light like there had been in the basement. I moved along sluggishly, stretching my empty hand out in front of my – as well as my foot – to try feel anything before I possible ran into it. Not that it actually kept me from running into things. Oh, no, I ran into the dining room table (the rolling chair near me told me that, since it was the chair she had sat in during out Skype call) as well as the coffee table – again – and I even managed to fall onto the leather couch that was positioned behind the table. I sat up on the furnishing, glad to find somewhere to relax for a moment. It had probably only been about ten minutes, but it felt like it'd been a lifetime and a half since Scarlett had been dragged up the stairs in the first place. How was I ever going to find her without light?

"I am the worst hero, ever," I muttered. It was likely the truth, too. These depressing thoughts were doing nothing to help me succeed, and you never saw the heroes of books and movies sitting and complaining and thinking that they are the worst possible person the assign the safety of the world to. No, they got up and hauled ass and saved the damn world! They didn't sit and wait for the lights. They braved the darkness! They didn't run from danger; they ran _towards it_.

My pep-talk seemed to work, my hopes rising, and my belief in my own abilities growing in size. That is, until a very distinct knock rang out in the silence, freezing me to the spot. I was completely silent, my eyes flying around the room helplessly. I stopped myself quickly; the more I tried to see, the more I would panic. It was silent around me as well, no sign of the knock even having sounded. Perhaps that's all it was, a sound created by my paranoia. I hoped that's all it was. For a minute or so (though it felt like hours to me) I just listened, waiting for something to happen. When that didn't happen, I sighed, frustrated. Maybe I was dreaming. Yes, maybe this was all just a hallucination. I'd fallen asleep on the airplane, or in Scarlett's car, and I was dreaming it all up. Why not? It made some sense. It was far more plausible than whatever was going on.

Just as those thoughts began to comfort me, another knock sounded, from the same place: the kitchen. I knew it was the kitchen, because before I fell onto the couch – after hitting my knee on the coffee table – that was where I had come from. Slowly, making up my mind and acting before I could doubt myself, I snatched Stephano off of the table and stood. Starting to the kitchen, I took a deep breath as I walked, picking up the pace, trying to pretend one of them was behind me and I could only survive by going forward. It must've worked, because I found it very difficult to even _look_ behind me, let alone go back, even though I knew I wouldn't see anything anyway. Continuing forward being my only option, I stretched out my hand, feeling for the little bar that separated the dining room from the kitchen. My fingers slipped across something. Slightly disturbed, I snatched my hand away, and then raised my fingers to my nose. Whatever it was smelled slightly rusty. I quickly wiped my hand on my pants, trying not to think about it.

The door to the right creaked slightly as I pushed it open, and I took a deep breath to calm my stuttering heart, which had reacted violently to the unwelcome noise. I inched forward, until a loud knock came once again, from right in front of me. The island, which Scarlett referred to as a granite-top table with cabinets on wheels, was small, positioned in the middle of the room, and where the knock had been created. Surprisingly, I could see a little in here, likely due to the thinner curtain over the small window above the sink. I had the fleeting thought that I should probably go through and try to open all the curtains, but it quickly left my mind. No way was I going to try navigating this house in the dark. I might end up with light, sure, but also bruises and injuries and possibly a pair of very pissed off demonic entities. And that was definitely not worth my sight. I snuck forward, watching the area around me cautiously, holding Stephano tightly. I did a whole lap around the island before I realized just how stupid I probably looked, and I quickly stood. Nothing seemed to be in here with me, and I could breathe a little easier.

Just as I did, however, yet another knock came from behind me, on the island. I whirled with a yell, stumbling back a bit, not realizing I'd shut my eyes until I was flat on my back. I opened them slowly, seeing very little, groaning as I stood. My head throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat. I looked around, but I couldn't see the cause of the noise. Surely it was just my imagination. The thought soothed me a little, or enough to get me to leave the room without looking behind me constantly.

The house was still quiet, and I clutched Stephano tighter in my grip. I eased my way into the dining room and around the large table. I found the edge of the couch with my fingertips. I made my way carefully, moving around the furniture, avoiding the coffee table that had injured me so many times before. As I continued forward, I felt a flat surface before me, not a wall, but something else.

Suddenly, the room erupted with light as the television, not but an inch from my face, flipped on, displaying snowy, white and gray static accompanied by the droning that often came with it. I yelped, falling onto my ass, but catching myself before I landed on my back. I slid backwards, until I hit the coffee table, though not hard enough to hurt. I stared in shock at the screen. The power was out, yet the television was on. My heart was racing and I felt dizzy. I took a deep breath, though I didn't move. Then, a voice came.

"Felix?" It was Scarlett, and she sounded scared and hoarse and like she was whispering. I scrambled up, staring at the electronic before me.

"Scarlett!" I said. "I'm here!" There was an intake of breath, and some coughs. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied after a moment. "I don't know where I am, though, it's so dark. You have to help me, Felix, please." She sobbed then, and I steeled myself.

"Of course I will," I said quickly. But I need you-"

"Felix, they're coming," she said. She sounded panicked now. Then, she yelped, and groaned in obvious pain.

"Scarlett?" I said quietly. It shut off again, leaving me in the dark once more. I swore silently. I had no idea where she was or what was happening, but I wasn't about to think over it. I needed to find her, and quickly. I took a breath, something I found myself doing way too much, as it didn't succeed in much, and snatched Stephano off of the floor by my feet, clutching him like an anchor that held me to the earth. I eased toward the hallway, watching my footing, until I heard a creaking behind me. I spun slowly, silent. What was going on here? I couldn't tell if the noises were my imagination, or if they were playing mind games with me. I brushed off the latter thought; of course not. Even Scarlett would scoff at the theory. My eyes scanned the room out of habit, though I made out very little, and I quickly tuned back just quickly enough to feel something breeze past me silently. I froze in my tracks, horror taking the place of my previous confusion. I didn't hear anything except the slow creak of a door opening.

_Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God._

_No. No, no, no._

I have to go there, don't I?

"C'mon, Pewdie," Stephano encouraged. "You can do this. It's not like the Bro is going to pop out at you. I mean, we're not even there anymore." I laughed at that. That's very much how I felt, though I'd never admit it, the same way that I wouldn't admit to being a coward, although pretty much the entire world already knew it.

"Right," I replied. "You're absolutely right, Stephano."

"Of course I am," he said. "I always am. Now, go! Hurry, you lazy person-thing; you're taking too long!" I laughed again, but I silenced immediately, hearing another creak in one of the rooms. It wasn't close enough to me to be the bathroom, but rather one of the guest rooms. Slowly, I crept toward the end of the hall, my hand stretched out to feel for the door. The door at the end was closed, my room. The one next to it, however, was not. It was Scarlett's studio, if I remembered correctly. I stayed in the doorway, debating. Then, I had an idea. It was actually pretty good, too, one I used an awful lot in Amnesia. I raised Stephano.

"You go first!" And I chucked him inside, knowing it wouldn't do anything. However, after a first thud to signal Stephano hitting floor, another came, much louder, accompanied by a pained whisper.

"Ouch!"

_..._

_What the hell?_


	5. Chapter Five - Extremes

**Chapter Five – Extremes**

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**A/N: Hey, guys! Welcome back to Boundaries! Just to show something, I started this chapter on March 16. The same day I finished chapter four. I finished this chapter on ****uh, well, April 17****. I think so. This means that as of ****April ****1****7****, the sixth chapter should be/should have been in the works.**** Surprisingly, it's been about a month, nearly exactly so, since last chapter, so yeah...**

**I think this chapter was very well done, on my part. At the beginning is a bit of suspense and mystery, though the mystery doesn't last too long. Hopefully it wasn't completely obvious either. I know that this whole thing has been stretched out a bit, but I personally enjoyed working with the situation. I think it sort of prepares you all for the way that I write, as well. Luckily, about halfway through, the scene does change, so it isn't the same thing through the whole chapter.**

**The pun is meant because I'd said that this chapter would NOT be FELIX'S POV. So yeah. Pun. Pwned. Whatever.**

**Also, from this point on, beware! Foul language/profanity (depending on what you call it) will be present.**

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**Not Felix's P.O.V.**** (Yes, I made a pun)**

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When Felix threw that metal thing at me, it was all I could do to keep from yelling as the object smacked forcefully onto my toes, which were bare of any layer or portion of protection. I reached down with a hand, clutching my injury. The chair I'd been holding – a small lawn chair that I pulled out from underneath the desk, which had been intended to be a prop of mine as I scared the Swede – fell from my now slack, one-handed grip, catching my shin painfully as it toppled onto its side with a thud, causing me to press down on the new pain as well.

"Ouch!" I whispered angrily, venting out a little of my frustration in a quiet and ineffective way. I had a pair of high quality night vision goggles over my eyes, but I was too occupied with my throbbing wounds to look up. I didn't hear anything from the hallway, so I thought he was either just standing there, completely frozen, or he had already left. Either way, I figured I was okay where I was at, though the thought didn't slow my fluttering heart, beating quickly with adrenaline. After a few moments, the throbbing pain began to ebb away, though my foot felt swollen. If it was broken, I was going to _kill_ Felix. Whatever he'd thrown was, while light in weight, extremely successful in causing me pain. However, as I put my bare foot back down to the carpet, I heard the creaking of his weight leaving the linoleum. _Oh, no_. I couldn't be caught now. I was too into it, too deep to be discovered after everything had gone so perfectly. My goggles offered a little advantage, allowing me to see my surroundings, a luxury Felix didn't have. There was a small twin bed pushed up parallel to the wall. The only other thing in the room was a large desk with two monitors and a keyboard and mouse on top. The chair that accompanied it was now on the ground. The desk was at my back, and I eased myself into the empty cubby-like space underneath, making myself as small as possible, even to the point of holding my breath, which had been coming in short gasps of air. Though it was unlikely he would catch me, I couldn't take that chance. As I watched his feet, I spotted the thing that had probably hit me: a small metal statue, resembling almost perfectly the little golden one from Amnesia. A thought struck me, nearly making me laugh; _he was looking for __Stephano_. Stephano was the name that he'd given to the statue, and I had to choke back my amusement. I couldn't risk his searching hand coming after me, which would likely happen if he heard me.

Just as I thought, I spotted Felix bending down to find the misplaced item. He roamed the carpet, trying desperately to find his friend. I had to swallow another laugh. _Stop it_, I told myself sternly.

"C'mon," he muttered. "Where'd you go…?" Felix missed the statue by about an inch, his fingers instead coming towards me. He reached right for my elbow, which propped me up underneath the piece of furnishing. It took all I had to keep from doing something rash. However, before he could actually touch me, he stepped on Stephano. He jumped back in shock, and I let out an inaudible sigh of relief. He bent down, picking up the small object, smiling to himself, though the look gave him a slightly creepy appearance with my night vision. My muscles were tense, half expecting him to look around and spot me, or to continue feeling around and touch me. I wasn't ready for that, and I was sure I would be chastised later if I was found.

"Great job, Pewdie," I heard Felix say in Stephano's voice. "The room is clear. Just look around a bit more, for something useful." He laughed, a forced and unnatural noise. I cocked my head to the side a little; it wasn't very much like him to be unable to laugh naturally, in a time like this. It was his personality, the ability to make the mood and atmosphere much lighter in bad moments, which I admired about him. It was a trait that I found I didn't have, or at least, I don't think so. In these situations, I am stoic. I am not nonchalant or casual. It surprised me that he wasn't acting as his usual, carefree self. I held my breath as he searched the room for anything he could use, my mind racing. I couldn't stand being cornered like this, but I was so _close_; I couldn't risk leaving and then being unable to return here. So I swallowed my anxiety and tension, focusing on Felix's position. I could see him from my vantage point, no matter where he went in the room. He felt the bed first. It was made in that pristine way that only a grandmother would have, the kind who despised anything and everything unorganized. He followed the edge of the bed to the left side of it, where a small side table was placed, with a lamp on top, along with an alarm clock. Odd that I hadn't noticed it before, but I suppose it was common to have one next to a bed. My head spun as I realized that the lamp _might still work_. I sucked in a breath, fighting down my panic. If that were true, if I had left it on, I was royally screwed, in more ways than simply being seen. Luckily, he didn't seem to find the lamp, or if he did, he thought it futile to check. A good thing, no doubt, but it was a mistake that not many people would make. But then, this was _Felix_, known for making the most ridiculous and uncommon mistakes ever.

He turned away from the table, allowing the bed's edge to guide him. But he didn't follow it all the way around to the other side. No, he kept walking forward, towards my spot. For a split second, I thought he'd seen me. I almost slid out and explained, if it wasn't for the fact that I could see his eyes searching the darkness, moving around uselessly in their sockets. I had to try very hard to stop the sigh of relief my body seemed intent on releasing. As he took another step, though, that feeling diminished, for Felix tripped over the chair, falling to the ground, his face barely a foot from mine. I held my breath as he breathed a word of spectacular choice, laughing at his own misfortune. I tried to move further from him, but my back was already pressed against the wall and the back of the desk, so I had no extra room. He moved his hand and – I swear he is the most oblivious to have ever walked the earth – brushed my cheek as he stood. It was so light that I could barely discern whether it was my own paranoid imagination or actual reality, but when he stood and rubbed his hands together, I knew it was true. I was so terribly startled, so tense, that I had to bite back the gasp that my lips were trying to allow past. He bent down to feel what he tripped over, quick to notice that it was a chair.

Of course, Felix being Felix, he started up a conversation, making yet another reference to his own video, replying to himself in the voice that of Mr. Chair, who was notorious for being idiotic. I, personally, thought that Mr. Chair was a fair representation of the man's own idiocy, simply personified and brought to life. However, Felix merely picked up his chair – for I was not listening in to what they were conversing about – and swiftly left the room, continuing to wander the dark house. I sighed in relief, something I noticed that, in just the past five minutes, I had done more times than I ever had in such a short time. Once a few moments had passed and I was sure he wasn't returning, I crawled out from underneath the desk, breathing deeply to dispel the sense of anxiety that had built up. Unfortunately, the initial plan I'd had for this room had gone incomplete – what with Felix taking the chair and all – but I did have other ideas. But first, I had another quest to take care of. It was time to switch.

In the guest room, which acted as a studio, as I had said before, was a bed, a desk, and a closet. No other major facilities were in here, as no one had ever truly used the room to their advantage, so it had been decided to do something rather snazzy with the empty, nearly useless area:

To install a secret room.

Now, this room was not for storage of some illegal substance, or a bomb or anything. Oh, no, that was too action-movie-like. No, no, this secret room was where The Event went down. Sometimes, it got a little messy, and a little loud, but soundproofing was quick to fix it. The mess was a given - considering what was being done - though it had been worked at for some time now. But The Event is exactly what you could expect. What happened in this secret room was….

. . . . . . .

Recordings. …You probably thought it was something dirty, didn't you? Some sort of sex chamber or something equally disturbing? Geez, I wish I'd realized exactly how I'd been describing that...

Anyway. Yes, this was where all of the YouTube recording magic was done. The editing took place anywhere in the house, the worst of it in the actual studio. But where the recording was actually _done_, was in that secret room. It was an idea derived from a movie that was watched one night, on a night when nothing else was to be done and quite a bit of alcohol had been consumed, directly after having purchased and moved into the home itself. It was an idea that was supported by a brother very enthusiastically, who even offered to build such a room, and made well on his promise. Needless to say, this room was rather easy to get to. It was the matter of _finding_ it that one had to worry about.

I stepped over to the closet, running a hand over the border of it. On the left side, a small notch was cut into the wall. Now, of course, it wasn't that the closet was a fake. It was more of a medical supply closet. It had small shelves that barely stuck out half a foot long, littered with things like tampons and bandages, so it was very much useless in a bedroom. Following this notch to the wall, about seven inches to the left, I found a small hole. Pressing my finger into the indentation, a small noise, barely heard even a foot away from the door, came from the closet, closely followed by a faint click. At this noise, I presently opened the closet door, revealing another room hidden behind where the supply closet would have been: the secret recording room.

This room was about the size of a master bathroom. There was a desk and a bookshelf and a large dining table littered with trash from meals and mail. Soundproofing materials were on the wall (as well as inside the plaster, to make it more useful) and the entire room looked gray with spiked texturing. At the desk, however, were three monitors. Sitting before those monitors were two other people, whom I considered very close friends.

"I swear, you are so lucky that I let you in, Cry," Scarlett spat at me the moment she saw me. I sighed a little at her very much expected anger.

"Why is that, friend?" I asked, knowing this to be the answer that she expected. She glanced up at me as I sat in the third chair, to her left, as the one to her right was occupied by the one and only Kenneth, or CinnamonToastKen.

"That would be because you are a complete idiot," she mumbled. "_Complete_ idiot." I didn't ask her to elaborate; it was fairly obvious that she meant my almost being caught. Which part of she meant in particular mattered not, simply because she was going to tell me, whether I was curious or not.

"Dropping the chair," she murmured, though loud enough to ensure that I heard her low-voiced dialogue. "I swear, if you had gotten us caught, I would have jumped out and murdered you then and there, Jack the Ripper style." I looked at her for a moment before smiling broadly.

"Hey, I scared him, didn't I?" There was palpable silence for a moment, and I thought she was going to lunge at me, or retaliate in some smutty way. **A/N: …Typo. My bad. Snotty, not smutty…**** It's just too funny to fix though... Stupid auto-correct.**

But instead, she smiled and laughed, throwing her head back as she did so.

"Yes," she replied. "I guess you did." She then looked at Ken, who stood watching our exchange with an amused smile. "Are you ready for your part, Ken?" He looked at her with a smile.

"Oh, definitely," he replied. Scarlett nodded.

"Okay, so let's go over it again, okay?" Ken nodded in consent. "So, Ken, you'll go through the crawl space there." She pointed to a small door that led into the wall next to the desk. "You'll follow it straight until you hit a dead end. Then, you'll standby and wait for us to give you the signal. When you receive said signal, you will open the little slider and breathe very softly on Felix's neck. Got it?" Ken laughed, and we all did.

"Got it," he replied, after he'd settled down. He picked up the earpiece off of the table, putting it into place. Ken got into position, Scarlett nodded, and he disappeared into the small crawl space.

* * *

**Ken's P.O.V**

* * *

The crawl space was tiny, and made me feel more than a little claustrophobic – and I didn't even have claustrophobia. There were no cobwebs, of course – Scarlett was far too nit-picky to let even her crawl space look un-kept – but the ceiling was low, forcing me into an uncomfortable crouching position. Of course, this crawl space of hers didn't surprise me at all; her brother had lived here before her and from her stories of him, he'd had good reason to build this little hidey-hole. But that isn't for me to talk about, what with L- uh, her brother not being my family...

Anyway. The dead end was quick to meet me, and I was lucky that I had a hard head, for I hit it against the wall.

"Ow!" I exclaimed angrily. "B-" I stopped myself short, hearing static from my earpiece.

"Ken, SHUT UP!" Scarlett said venomously. "I swear, if he finds you out, I will send you back to your apartment. With a black eye," she added. I nodded, until I remember she couldn't see me, an opportunity that I took to flip her the bird discreetly.

"Alright, alright," I muttered, after another rant at my lack of response. "I hear you." The other end went quiet then, and I was left to the darkness of the crawl space, where I was finally able to stand. A small beam of light shone through the cracks of the slider, only enough to - curse my luck - blind me a little, so I had to cover my right eye to avoid it. Now, all I had to do was wait.

* * *

**Scarlett's P.O.V **

* * *

I cringed a little bit at the thought of being caught; I knew we were stretching this a bit too far. We had overdone it, from the moment that I had been willfully dragged up out of the basement, but now it was too late to try to end it. If we ended it now, it would have been fruitless. I wouldn't be able to upload it, to say the least. And dammit, I had promised my fans an extravagant prank, and that was exactly what they were going to get!

I watched the monitor to the left, which displayed the kitchen and the dining room. The middle one displayed the living room and the basement. The one to the right had multiple windows for each of the bedrooms. Each of them was being recorded with my capture card, which had come in handy. At this moment, Ken's position was to the right of the television. Felix was getting closer and closer to him by the second, and I had to hold back my laughter at the fact that he now not only had Stephano, but he also had my chair. And he was talking to them It was rather amusing, the arguments he was maintaining. Luckily, I did have the sound recorded alongside the image, so everyone could receive the original entertainment. The one thing I found odd was that he didn't try to open any of the curtains. If he did, we would be forced to come out, as it was fairly bright outside. But, to be honest, this was _Felix_ that we were dealing with, Captain Obvious personified. And it wasn't like _I_ was complaining.

Felix was walking around the couch, and he was nearly about to sit down when I clicked my tongue for my microphone, signaling for Ken to call attention to himself. As I did, a muffled thud came from the wall, and I watched with satisfaction as Felix jumped up.

"H-hello?" he said nervously. The thud came again, according to my click. Slowly, Felix ventured toward the source of the noise, feeling the wall with hesitant hands after having set down his accomplices. I held my breath, though I knew he wouldn't find the sliding panel; my brother had made sure of that much when he installed it. After a few moments, he turned around with a sigh ready to leave, and I quickly cleared my throat, Ken's signal to freak the hell out of Felix. I could tell when his part was done, for Felix darted away from the wall, a hand to his neck, with an exclamation of (insert Swedish phrase here). I had to bite back my laughter. He spun to face the wall, searching for what had caused the odd breeze. The look on his face was rather hysterical, and I heard Ken come back into the room, a smirk placed rightly on his face. I looked to Cry briefly, my eyebrows raised. He looked thoughtful for a moment, but shook his head. Ken did the same. Of course, they weren't wrong; this had gone on long enough. No need to drag it on further. It was time for the final part.

"Set it up," I said, slight regret in my voice. Cry took over for me, so that I could get it ready. I pulled a chair from the table, sitting down, allowing Ken to wrap the ropes around me. I had on a blindfold. If I was Felix, I don't know how I would handle what we were about to do.

"Ready?" I asked. Cry hummed in confirmation in my earpiece. I took a breath, and then I heard the sound of static.

"F-Felix?" I said quietly. It was quiet for a moment, before a reply came.

"Scarlett! Are you okay?" he said frantically. I had to keep a straight face, biting on my tongue.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "I just… No, they're coming back!" I gasped, and then I heard a click in my ear, signaling that I was on screen for Felix. Of course, the reaction from him would have told me the same, anyway.

"Scarlett? What did they do to you?" I bit back the smirk and put in its place an ironic smile.

"I'm… fine. They haven't… hurt me." He sighed in relief. "But Felix, I've got bad news."

"What?" he asked cautiously. I lowered my head.

"Felix, they're…. They're…." Then, I looked up, a sadistic smile on my face, the blindfold having slipped off my face. I watched the monitor with delight. "They're right behind you." On the screen, Felix spun around quickly, his confused look still on his face, only to see Cry and Ken behind him, Cry with my old baseball bat, and Ken with a lamp (presumable from the studio, though if he broke it, I was going to kill him). A scream sounded from the Swede as he stumbled back, luckily not falling into the television. I struggled out of my ropes – thank god for Ken using loose knots – and ran out of the secret room, dashing into the living room in time to witness his break down.

"Don't- don't touch me! Don't you DARE touch me!" he shouted. I nodded to Ken, and he set off towards the basement, to turn the switch outside, which controlled the breaker. Cry took a step towards me, but it was the wrong move. Felix shot up, lunging towards him, screaming "Don't touch her, either!" They crashed, Felix landing on top of him roughly, pinning him to the floor, just as the lights came back on in the room. Felix straddled Cry, his hands on either side of his face on the floor, but now, he was confused. He sat up straight, looking down at Cry.

"W-what?" he said. And then, I couldn't do it anymore. I busted up laughing, clutching my side with tears filling my eyes. Felix looked at me, I saw, through my blur of tears, but I couldn't control myself.

"Oh," I said in between my fits. "It's like a scene from one of your sappy fan fictions." I laughed even harder, and Felix stood up slowly. The look on his face stopped me cold.

"You. Did. That?" he said quietly. Ken was back now, silent. We all nodded as he looked at us in turn. And then, he started to laugh, too. It was contagious, that hyena-like laugh of his, that soon, we were all sitting on the floor, our backs to the coffee table or couch, slowly recovering from the hysteria.

"Well," Felix said, after we finally stopped. "I will admit this; that was pretty damn good. Certainly pulled it off." He paused. "Of course, you've got one of the best actors ever." I smiled at him mischievously.

"Whatever are you talking about, sir?" I asked innocently. He pushed me lightly, sending me into giggles.

"Hey, that was your fault," I argued. "You fell for it, didn't you?" He just scowled at me, sending us all laughing, which only made him scowl even more. When we finished though, he smiled.

"So," he said, "what are you guys doing here?" Cry and Ken looked at each other.

"Well," Ken started. "When a man and a woman love each other-"

"NOT WHAT I MEANT!" Felix shouted, covering his ears. Ken and Cry laughed, and I just patted Felix on the back.

"Okay, okay," Cry said. "Fine. She called us here." I looked up, surprised and irritated.

"Did not!" I said. "They showed up at my front door. Scared the crap out of me, too. Said they had an idea. They wanted to prank you, and they were thinking about kidnapping you from the airport. I decided on this, though." I shrugged. "It seemed more humane."

"More humane?" Felix said. "I'd have taken kidnapping over a tale of ghosts, Scarlett. Definitely." I rolled my eyes, pushing him away playfully. "So, how long are you here for?" I looked at the men in question.

"Actually, he's right. How long _will _you be here?" Cry glanced at Ken for a moment.

"Well, I packed for about two weeks," they said in unison, causing me to groan.

"Wait, I have to be with _three_ morons for _two weeks_?" They just laughed, but I wasn't all that worried.

This was going to be awesome.


End file.
